


all is not as it seems (for the willfully ignorant)

by daily_inanities



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mutual Hurt/Comfort, Nonsexual Nudity, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Newt Scamander, They both hurt but they help each other out, less of plot and more of a study of their relationship, they deserve better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daily_inanities/pseuds/daily_inanities
Summary: Percival Graves, the stoic head of MACUSA’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement, wasn't known to be a complex being. His brief imprisonment by Gellert Grindelwald's hands aside, his routine and standard lifestyle followed everything to a T. Deviation unpalatable, organization was always priority. The masses were happy to paint such a picture that way, and no further digging was deemed necessary.At least, if they weren't Newt Scamander.





	all is not as it seems (for the willfully ignorant)

_“Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden.”  
― Phaedrus_

As the years pass, things as we know it will inevitably change. Looks, settings, personalities, are all subject to change. All except for the public’s image of the head of MACUSA’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement, also known as Percival Graves.

Ignoring Grindelwald’s brief stint as the good Director, his routine, pedantic persona was known by all. The frank and curt manner he took with everyone, no exceptions, was always memorable. His colleagues and subordinates noted the way he tended to take his coffee every morning without fail, a spoonful of cream and a pinch of sugar, thank you. The worn handsome face, lined after years of stress and working, always set in a look of professional disinterest that meant business. Deviation from the norm was unpalatable to for the man and remained so for as everyone knew. Everything about him was utterly predictable, a template for the ideal boss. 

For the public, at least.

Newton, _‘Newt, if you please.’_ Artemis Fido Scamander would say otherwise.

It’s hard to imagine a better man for deciphering such an aloof man than Newt. Anyone else may have more success with a brick wall, but not the man who worked with society’s misunderstood for a living.

As it turns out, Newt soon found Percival needed no deciphering. He was not a puzzle, he was a man waiting for someone to take the time to notice. Persistence, dedication, and love worked better than any mallet to crack the hard exterior shell.

Being a magizoologist, it’s in Newt’s nature to be naturally observant. And when one looks hard enough, the glittering diamond shining brilliantly beneath the coal will await those who are patient. 

He may have crafted a mold of a stoic defender, but underneath lay a fragile soul. Many of Percival’s nights were spent under the light of the kitchen, fingers clenching his mug so tight he fingers became white. Any sleep he managed was plagued by a stranger wearing his face, slowly but surely corrupting his life from the inside, while he remained at the mercy of the madman. So many nights anxiously spent lying in wait, wand at the ready, for an intruder that would never come. 

Yet, just as many couldn’t see past the Director’s mask, it was hard for the masses to find the soothing nature of the socially awkward magizoologist. They had trouble connecting the man who had issues with eye contact to the one who remained sleepless to serenade fussy Occamies to bed. Who had trouble making the barest conversation with the one who worries over Bowtruckles with colds, and made sure they’re settled before he even checked himself. The particularly clumsy oddball of a person to the one who aided a Nundu at the constant risk of his own life. Who had enough to despair over in his own life, to the man saving all his tears for the girl he couldn’t save.

Newt Scamander was the balm to Percival Graves’s festering wounds of the past.

The frequent nights Percival spent clawing at his own skin, trying to be rid of spells that weren’t there, were when Newt gently shook him awake, his soothing whispers running over him like water. The very same water rushing to fill up the tub, as Newt gently roved his fingers into the man’s soap lathered scalp. Whispering anything from the lifespan of a Thunderbird to the diameter of a Unicorn’s horn to keep his mind away from the past. Bemoaning house rivalries, the raising prices of tea, the button on his coat that always loosened no matter how many times he’d mended it. Too frazzled to be calmed by assurances and promises, he was instead told useless nothings that kept his mind turning, gears grating. 

Wondering what he did to deserve such a man. How could such a wonderful, unbelievable man find something worthy in a broken shell? How could he find it in him to love him after his imposter sentenced him to execution? _A weak, pathetic sorry excuse for man like him didn’t deserve such a-_

The telltale hitch of his breathing, his accelerated pulse, has Newt gently nuzzling the back of his neck. The soap from Percival’s hair gathers in the ginger’s bangs, but he can’t find it within himself to mind. He knows, that when doubts and worries drown out his voice, the warm heat radiating off of him is a jolt. The swaying of Percival’s hair as he hums into the nape of his neck is a relaxant. Bringing his scarred and burned forearms to shaking shoulders, to press him against his torso. The dig of the tub’s rim in his waist is uncomfortable, but he only focuses on the man in front of him. The rise and fall of his chest act as a guide, whispering to follow his lead and just _breathe_ , in and out.  
In and out.  
In and out.

Finally, Percival relaxes, letting the gentle waves lapping at his chest lull him into his lover’s embrace. Times passes, and the next he knows he’s settled into bed, the familiar rise and fall of Newt’s chest his cushion, as well as his guide that beckons him to dream. 

He follows with a smile.

...

Newt can’t always be perfect, either.

Living under the stress of being on the bad side of a wanted criminal, dealing with those who brush his staunch positions on creatures as fanatical and insensible, and the ball and chain of the one he wished to forget clinging to him, Newt couldn’t always be an anchor for those lost and drifting.

Anchors catch, but can easily become unrooted.

Throwing himself into his work helps him take his mind off it, but it doesn’t say much for his health. The creatures can sense his unease, but remain helpless to his plights as he tends to them hour after hour with little reprieve. Once they are taken care of, it takes the strength of more than a hundred men to pull him away from his desk, recounting his knowledge for a bestiary. Pickett puts up a spectacular effort, nipping and pulling at his hair, collar, sleeves, but all for naught. Tina, Queenie, and Jacob help when they can, whisking him away to taste their creations, or regale him of stories of that one criminal attempting to forge wands from sticks, but they can only do so much for a man determined to work himself into the ground.

Percival Graves prefers different tactics. 

Deciding to utilize his superior strength over the younger Scamander brother, he usually resorts to bodily heaving him away from his desk. Gently but forcefully pulling him away, and supporting his wiggling form with his arms under his legs and lower back. Ignoring his loud yet tired protests, he would take the steps out of the case two at a time, and dump him onto their shared bed.The magizoologist finds it hard to continue his struggle, his own exhaustion and sleepless nights at his desk beginning to weigh on him. He can’t help but snuggle into the soft feel of the duvet, and sink into the welcoming mattress.

Whatever fight he had left in is drained at the welcoming warmth of Percival settling into his side. Reluctantly, he listens to the soothing tones of the director talking him down. Reasoning to him that working himself senseless isn’t beneficial to anyone, least of all himself. The murmured assurances are jarring him, and yeah, maybe working himself to the bone isn’t a wise decision. Of course, Newt’s episodes are far and few, but Percival treats them with utmost seriousness all the same.

Properly talked down, Percival silently undresses them to their underclothes, no matter the time or situation, and burrows both of them in their nest of blankets and pillows. Enveloped in the warm embrace of the auror, Newt is eager to bury his face into the crook of Percy’s neck, chasing the warmth with gentle kisses and laughs. Percival, meanwhile, wants none of it, only seeking his lips with a quirk of the lips. They’re dry and chapped, but Newt loves them anyway.

Both men, misconstrued by the public and dealing with their own issues, found solace within each other. Be it being lulled to sleep by the lullabies of childhood, or lavishing one with affection endlessly, they’ve found their comforts, their support beams, the balms to their wounds, in a world crumbling around them.

_They wouldn’t want it any other way._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, Gramander is an absolute guilty pleasure of mine. It's such a pure and great ship, so when I discovered it, I was hooked immediately. This was honestly just an excuse to write Newt and Percy loving all the parts of each other without reservations. If I find the motivation in the future, I hope I can write more about them. (Lowkey dissatisfied with the ending, but I still love it.)  
> Also, I have no doubts about Newt's friends bodily removing him from his desk, but I just left it up to Percival for today.
> 
> *EDIT* - I honestly am floored by how many people have read, gave kudos, bookmarked, etc. Like, seriously, I can't thank you all enough for all the support you gave <3 It means the universe to me, and more. I know I'm not the best writer out there, or the most devoted, but it makes me feel so happy that people actually like what I write. It gives me more confience and motivation to write more in the future!


End file.
